Alan Blunt's Big Book of MI6 Christmas Carols
by alansquill
Summary: Despite my original intention to for this to be a one-shot... Gathered Christmas carol spoofs, along with new chapters. Who says you can only write Christmas carols in December?
1. The Twelve Days of Christmas

**This was originally published 28-11-08, but due to a few requests to gather everything together and make it a multi-chaptered fic, I succumbed and did this. Also, I own nothing in this or any subsequent chapters save the plot. Alex Rider characters and James Bond are respectively owned by Anthony Horowitz and Ian Fleming.**

**Just a little one-shot I made to commemorate the holidays! Not to be taken seriously or with a dose of reality. Anyway, enjoy.**

(The Rider household. Curtain opens on small kitchen with JACK reading the newspaper at the table. The phone rings.)

JACK: Hello?… Oh yes, of course. (covers mouthpiece) Alex! It's for you!

ALEX: Hello?… but… yes, I understand but… err… um, okay. (slams phone down) Argh!

JACK: What's wrong? Please tell me it isn't another mission.

ALEX: (chuckles weakly) Actually… Bluntinvitedmetotheannualchristmaspartyforemployeesandwekindahaftagoorelse.

JACK: (blinks) Say what? And in English this time.

ALEX: See, apparently every year there's an annual Christmas party for MI6 employees and it's mandatory, so… yeah.

JACK: So when is it?

ALEX: (mumbles)

JACK: Alex? Repeat that please.

ALEX: (looks sheepish) Tonight?

JACK: (eyes bugging out) Tonight! And he just let you know NOW that you had to attend?! Why, I ought to… (mumbles darkly)

(The lights dim. When they come up, a formal party is before the audience, with people awkwardly milling around, as they don't know each others' names. Spotlight on ALEX and JACK as they enter. BLUNT walks over to them.)

BLUNT: Hello, Alex. You and Jack are just in time for the singing.

(ALEX and JACK look at each other.)

ALEX: Singing?

JACK: What singing?

BLUNT: Follow me. (Leads them to the centre of the room.) Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention please!

ALEX: (whispers) What's he doing?

JACK: (shrugs) Beats me.

BLUNT: I'd like to present Agent… er… Ghost Rider!

ALEX: That's a lame codename. Why not Agent 007?

MRS. JONES: (miraculously materializing) We already have one of those. Sorry.

007: (nods to ALEX)

BLUNT: Shut up! (To audience) Agent Ghost Rider will be starting us off on the MI6 version of "The Twelve Days of Christmas," so please give him your full attention. (BLUNT retreats.)

ALEX: (looks to JACK. She shrugs. ALEX clears throat.) Err.. hi everybody, I'm Agent Danger and I'll be singing the first verse, so here goes!

BLUNT: (to MRS. JONES) Is that supposed to be a better codename?

ALEX: (clears throat again) On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me… (voice dies away)

JACK: (decides to help) A sirop de grenadine!

MRS. JONES: Delicious.

SMITHERS: My turn. On the second day of Christmas, my boss gave to me…

ALEX: Two pen grenades!

BLUNT: Don't give him anything explosive!

JACK: And a sirop de grenadine!

MRS. JONES: On the third day of Christmas, my son gave to me…

SMITHERS: Three peppermints!

007: Not the pepperminty breath of doom!

ALEX: Two pen grenades!

BLUNT: No explosives!

JACK: And a sirop de grenadine!

MRS. JONES: Alan, your turn.

BLUNT: Must I? (MRS. JONES glares.) Fine. One the fourth day of Christmas, my agents gave to me…

MRS. JONES: Four grey suits!

ALEX: Do you think they're having an affair?

SMITHERS: Three peppermints!

007: No more effing peppermints!

MRS. JONES: Forgive him. There was incident where he was tortured with them…

ALEX: Two pen grenades!

BLUNT: I swear Smithers, if you blow up the lab one more time…

JACK: And a sirop de grenadine!

007: On the fifth day of Christmas, the girl I shagged gave to me…

JACK: Horrible voice you have.

BLUNT: Five vodka martinis!

ALEX: Shaken, not stirred.

MRS. JONES: Four grey suits!

SMITHERS: Three peppermints!

ALEX: Two pen grenades!

BLUNT: Oh, I give up.

JACK: And a sirop de grenadine!

(JULIA ROTHMAN blows a hole in the wall and enters.)

JULIA ROTHMAN: On the sixth day of Christmas, my darling John gave to me…

ALEX: That's just wrong, now.

JACK: Where's a gun when you need one?

007: Six bottles of champagne.

BLUNT: Five vodka martinis.

JULIA ROTHMAN: Those so do not mix well together.

MRS. JONES: Four grey suits.

SMITHERS: Three peppermints.

ALEX: Two pen grenades.

JACK: And a sirop de grenadine.

ASH: On the seventh day of Christmas, Scorpia gave to me…

ALEX: You traitor! Why won't you die? (sobs)

JULIA ROTHMAN: Seven bombs to plant!

BLUNT: So you're the one that did it!

007: Six bottles of champagne.

BLUNT: Five vodka martinis.

JULIA ROTHMAN: I keep telling you people, it's highly irregular to drink both together.

MRS. JONES: Four grey suits.

SMITHERS: Three peppermints.

ALEX: Two pen grenades.

JACK: And a sirop de grenadine.

SABINA: On the eighth day of Christmas, my darling Alex gave to me…

ALEX: Ick! Girl cooties!

ASH: Eight brand-new hickies!

JACK: It's time we had the talk, Alex.

JULIA ROTHMAN: Seven bombs to plant.

007: Six Prada handbags.

JULIA ROTHMAN: Much better.

BLUNT: Five vodka martinis.

MRS. JONES: Four grey suits.

SMITHERS: Three peppermints.

ALEX: Two pen grenades.

JACK: And a sirop de grenadine.

(YASSEN GREGOROVICH falls from the open skylight.)

YASSEN: This has got to be hell.

ALL: Start the ninth verse of "The Twelve Days of Christmas!"

YASSEN: Yup, definitely hell. On the ninth day of Christmas the Hunter gave to me…

ALEX: You mean my dad?

SABINA: Nine sniper rifles.

ASH: Eight brand-new hickies.

JULIA ROTHMAN: Seven bombs to plant.

007: Six Prada handbags.

YASSEN: You've got a really bad voice.

007: That's what they tell me. (winks) Am I making you hot?

(YASSEN shudders.)

BLUNT: Five vodka martinis.

MRS. JONES: Four grey suits.

SMITHERS: Three peppermints.

ALEX: Two pen grenades.

JACK: And a sirop de grenadine.

(IAN RIDER climbs out from a ventilation shaft.)

IAN: On the tenth day of Christmas, my Jack gave to me…

JACK: I thought you didn't want to go public about it.

ALEX: Too many dead people… (faints)

YASSEN: Ten French kisses.

IAN: Me like. A lot. (smirks)

SABINA: Nine sniper rifles.

ASH: Eight brand-new hickies.

JULIA ROTHMAN: Seven bombs to plant.

007: Six Prada handbags.

BLUNT: Five vodka martinis.

MRS. JONES: Four grey suits.

SMITHERS: Three peppermints.

ALEX: Two pen grenades.

JACK: And a sirop de grenadine.

(HELEN RIDER slips out from behind a fake plant.)

MRS. JONES: She still looks as good as ever. I want a figure like that.

HELEN: On the eleventh day of Christmas, my John gave to me…

YASSEN: Eleven sperm cells. (snickers)

(JULIA ROTHMAN elbows him.)

ALEX: Yassen! No more cookies and punch.

IAN: Eleven foreign films.

YASSEN: Ten French kisses.

SABINA: Nine sniper rifles.

ASH: Eight brand-new hickies.

JULIA ROTHMAN: Seven bombs to plant.

007: Six Prada handbags.

BLUNT: Five vodka martinis.

MRS. JONES: Four grey suits.

SMITHERS: Three peppermints.

ALEX: Two pen grenades.

JACK: And a sirop de grenadine.

(JOHN RIDER appears in a flash of smoke and color.)

007: Drama queen. Hmph!

ALEX: Dad?

JOHN: Alex, I am your father. Heh, I've always wanted to say that. On the twelfth day of Christmas, my Helen gave to me…

HELEN: Twelve sets of twins!

(JOHN faints.)

HELEN: I was just kidding!

IAN: Eleven foreign films.

YASSEN: Ten French kisses.

SABINA: Nine sniper rifles.

ASH: Eight brand-new hickies.

JULIA ROTHMAN: Seven bombs to plant.

007: Six Prada handbags.

BLUNT: Five vodka martinis.

MRS. JONES: Four grey suits.

SMITHERS: Three peppermints.

ALEX: Two pen grenades.

JACK: And a sirop de grenadine!

(ALL clap. JACK gives IAN ten French kisses. HELEN, JOHN, and ALEX hug each other.)

HELEN: (softly) Merry Christmas, Alex.

(YASSEN looks left out. ALEX notices.)

ALEX: Merry Christmas, Yassen. (Envelops YASSEN in hug. YASSEN looks startled, but hugs back.)

Finite


	2. Jingle Bells, Shotgun Shells

**This was originally published 1-12-08.**

**After rave reviews (not really, but I did get a couple) of my previous work, "The Twelve Days of Christmas," I decided to continue. *sighs* This is why you don't go on a sugar high, kiddies. Anyway, this can stand alone, but it's a part of my MI6 Carols series, so you might want to read the other one first for some background. Bon appétit!**

(Camera flashes. ALEX and YASSEN blink.)

JOHN: Aha! Now we're even, Yassen.

ALEX: (confused) What's he talking about?

YASSEN: (sighs) Well, it all started a long time ago…

(Lights dim. Spotlight on YASSEN and JOHN.)

JOHN: (Begins to sing in a fine, rich baritone.)

Dashing through the snow,

Running for our lives,

Over the ridge we go,

Avoiding thrown knives,

Shots from rifles sound,

It's all rather tense,

I didn't mean to scare that hound,

And now we're on defence!

BOTH:Oh, jingle bells, shotgun shells,

Echo through the night,

We're chased by German rebels,

Please save us from our plight!

Oh, jingle bells, shotgun shells,

Echo through the night,

We're chased by German rebels,

Please save us from our plight!

YASSEN: A day or two ago,

Blunt gave us a mission,

We had to overthrow,

An evil politician,

All was going well,

Finished and unhurt,

But then John went and tripped and fell,

And made the hounds alert!

BOTH:Oh, jingle bells, shotgun shells,

Echo through the night,

We're chased by German rebels,

Please save us from our plight!

Oh, jingle bells, shotgun shells,

Echo through the night,

We're chased by German rebels,

Please save us from our plight!

JOHN: So basically, I completely messed up this mission. Yassen's never let me live it down. Come to think of it, there was this one time that 007 messed up as well…

HELEN: Honestly John, do you never stop squirreling away information to blackmail people with? You promised you wouldn't do it anymore.

YASSEN: I must say, I wholeheartedly concur with Helen. The wife's always right, _partner_. Eh? Eh? (mumbles) And you're quite the idiot for even wanting to get married to that harpy.

HELEN: Yassen Gregorovich! You take that back right this instant.

ALEX: Mum?

HELEN: Yes dear?

ALEX: It's Christmas Eve. I'm sure you can give Yassen his present tomorrow.

HELEN: What? (Comprehension dawns.) Oh, I see. (Grins evilly.) Alex is right, I'm afraid. You'll just have to wait until tomorrow to get your lovely black eye.

(YASSEN cowers.)

JOHN: Now, now, Helen. Do you remember what we talked about?

HELEN: Fine, fine. No misplaced aggression. But this isn't misplaced! It's directed at the right person. You know, the annoying partner of yours, whats-his-name. Yoff-yoff? Yugle? Yosefina?

(ALEX and 007 stifle laughter. BLUNT and MRS. JONES shake heads.)

YASSEN: That's it! I'm not putting up with that – that hellcat you call a wife any more, you hear? I quit.

ALEX: But don't you work for Scorpia?

JULIA ROTHMAN: Yes, yes. I'm awaiting your reply, hmm?

YASSEN: (Glances around nervously.) Okay, so _maybe_ I was a double agent like Johnny over here. And, hypothetically speaking, let's suppose I work for MI6 and feed them information. (hastily) But of course, I really work for Scorpia.

(007 and ASH have to restrain JULIA ROTHMAN from clawing YASSEN's eyes out.)

007: Wait a minute. You two are wanted criminals in seven continents.

ASH: (dryly) I wasn't aware I had done anything in Antarctica.

007: Shut it! (Pulls out rope from his never-ending pockets and proceed to tie ASH and JULIA ROTHMAN up.) I've done it again. Call Ian Fleming and have him publish this as another fictional novel.

SABINA: You idiot. Ian Fleming died in 1964.

007: (disheartened) But what will I do now? I have no reason to continue spying if the world will not know of my adventures.

YASSEN: (Rolls eyes.) Oh, whatever _will_ you do? I'm certain the rest of us are all dead, seeing as we do not have personal biographers.

HELEN: (Elbows YASSEN.) Be nice now. The poor man's going through a mid-life crisis.

007: (indignant) What? I'll have you know, madam, regardless of my age, I'm still as godlike as ever. Not to mention modest, too.

(YASSEN, ALEX, and JOHN snort.)

Finite


	3. Fa la la la la, la la la la

**Well, it certainly has been a while. School has been as hectic as ever, and now with college applications and summer classes to consider – along with the ever-nasty AP exams in the preceding months – I haven't really had opportunity to write at all. But, I figured this would be some good stress relief, so might as well, yeah? And who says Christmas carols can only be written in December?**

**Also, thanks to everyone who has brightened my day by taking a bit of time to write a review!**

ALEX: So Dad, what about that time when 007 messed up?

007: John Rider, if you tell him anything, I will slit your throat in your sleep.

JOHN: All the more reason to do so then. Besides, you know I've always been looking for an excuse to attack you anyway.

HELEN: Now that's not nice at all, John, and certainly not in the Christmas spirit. Though I will admit that I'm rather curious...

007: Bah humbug! Fine. I'd rather tell the tale than have you mangle it and blow it completely out of proportion with all your dramatics. A-hem-hem-hem:

(sung to the tune of "Deck the Halls")

'Twas a fine December morning

Fa la la la la, la la la la

And it came without clear warning

Fa la la la la, la la la la

Asassins were searching for me

Fa la la, la la la, la la la

Looked like it was time to flee

Fa la la la la, la la la la

Seems the girl I fell in love with

Fa la la la la, la la la la

Let me tell you, love is no myth

Fa la la la la, la la la la

She really worked for the bad guys

Fa la la, la la la, la la la

And coldly revealed my disguise

Fa la la la la, la la la la

Now it seems my heart is shattered

Fa la la la la, la la la la

And my clothes completely tattered

Fa la la la la, la la la la

Onto cold ice I took a dive

Fa la la, la la la, la la la

And, as you see, I'm still alive

Fa la la la la, la la la la

(bows)

ALEX: Sounds like you had a fun time, but what's so tragic about that?

(JOHN and IAN snicker)

007: (astonished) You really don't understand? (ALEX shakes head) No? That suit cost 500 pounds. _And_ I spent another 500 pounds on that girl when she went off on a shopping binge, _and_...

(YASSEN slaps duct tape over 007's mouth. ALEX looks confused.)

YASSEN: If you don't shut him up somehow before he really gets rolling, you can be forced to listen to his drivel for days on end.

IAN: Oh yes, I remember that one time he and you were accidently locked up in that room during training... (cowers under YASSEN's glare)

JOHN: (smirks) Oh yes, I remember that... (grins evilly) That was one of your favourite training exercises too, wasn't it? (nudges YASSEN)

BLUNT: One of these days... (grumbles)

HELEN: (sighs) Boys will be boys, I suppose.

Finite

**Writing this was such a great form of stress relief, and I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing this! -Alansquill**


End file.
